Kindred Circuits
by Cy8erman
Summary: I wrote this as an explanation for the Cybermen's disappearance in Doomsday, mainly why they weren't pulled back into the Breach like the Daleks even though officially they went through the cracks they originally came through.


_Deep space: location unknown_

Darkness. The entire room lay in complete black, its occupants temporarily resting and repairing. Instantly that had changed.  
Strips of red light began flashing, alarms blared and the hollow voice of the computer resounded throughout the entire starship.  
"Emergency signal incoming. Audio only. Temporal-Spatial coordinates: 78-91-G344."  
A screen flickered to life, bathing the room with a blue light. On the screen, a black oscilloscope danced in time with the words of the transmission.  
There was an explosion, then words were broadcast into the moderately lit room.

"Emergency. All units will converge on the Torchwood Tower. Repeat – all Cybermen to Torchwood."

Instantly any form of movement in the room stopped. Each dark silhouette turned to the centre of the room and faced a large shadow. A mass of wires, metal, rubber, copper, all formed a large pulsing seat, upon which sat a dark shape.  
The seated figure reached out with its left hand, splaying its fingers. Five wires slithered off the chair and plugged themselves in the tips of the fingers, and the speakers in the room all played a loud voice, tinny and deep.

"**Replay.**"

Once again the line on the screen danced to the words of the transmission.

"Emer"

"**Skip."**

"epeat. All Cybermen to T"

"**Replay."**

"eat. All Cybermen t"

"**Replay."**

"Cybermen." The transmission suddenly began looping very quickly. "CybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermenCybermen."

"**End transmission."**

The wires in its fingers pulled out, and retreated back into the large seat. The figure plunged its hands into sockets attached to the arms of its chair as the screen suddenly became a window into the depths of space, and a fleet of hundreds of large ships, shaped like triangles which had been slightly squashed.

"**Activating powerplant. Bringing temporal-spatial transporters online. Coordinates 78-91-G344"**

A grinding whirr, pulsing and alternating from high to low, echoed throughout all of the ships as gradually they began to fade into nothing, leaving no trace of them ever existing.

_Canary Wharf: London_

UNIT soldiers ran through the back-alleys and streets of London, firearms in their hands and grenades on their belts. A small squad stood at the end of a small street, facing down the four remaining assailants that had somehow materialised out of the ghosts. The soldiers commanding officer (after the death of those above her) was lieutenant Deacon, a tall, redheaded (dirty blonde if anyone asked) who had seen a fair few fights but declined any offer of promotion.  
She gestured to the soldier holding the RPG, ordering him to fire at the approaching metal men. As the grenade exploded, three more of the beings were consumed by the explosion, or thrown forcefully into walls.

"Good work, lads. Finish this last one off and I'm getting 'em in!"

As bullets harmlessly richoted off the attacker's metal carapace Deacon became aware of a different than the metallic pinging of projectiles: the sound of breaking glass. Her head shot up, and sure enough the windows of the houses around her had been smashed, and now metal arms, on which sat the weapons the 'Ghosts' were using, were pointing down towards her men.

"Enemies at vantage! Find cover!" as Deacon dived behind a burning car ("_stupid idea!_") a corporal beside her asked where they came from.

"I don't know. They must have materialised inside the house and made their way upstairs. I don't know why they waited for so long to attack though."

"No ma'am. I mean in general. What were the ghosts? And how did they turn into those things?"

Deacon shrugged. "I dunno. But I've got a feeling Torchwood will have a lot to report to Her Majesty after this."

As the lieutenant peeked over her cover, there was a quick zipping sound in the air. Several bolts of neon blue energy flew through the air, into the windows of the houses and sent the attackers tumbling out of windows and clanging into the gardens below.  
Lt. Deacon, like all other UNIT soldiers, had been warned about certain things. Weevil infestations in Cardiff, Royal werewolves which often roamed the city and attacked the homeless... and the raw power a single Dalek had

So naturally when she looked up and saw the sky black with them... she fainted.

_Geostationary Orbit: Earth (Sol-3)_

Slowly, a huge armada formed around Earth. Within seconds they had received an automated warning, ordering them away.

"This is Yvonne Hartman, director of Torchwood. Any attempts at approaching this planet will be interpreted as an act of war and we will retaliate with lethal force."

Onboard the largest of the vessels, the warning lights once again lit red. Once again alarms blared, lights flashed and the figures began moving about the room.

"Red alert. Multiple Dalek units detected. 678,519. 700,067. 701,112. Increasing."

The seated figure unplugged its arms and spread them to the side. Wires dropped from the ceiling and plugged into sockets on the forearm.

"**All vessels prepare to receive units. Medical teams on standby."**

_Canary Wharf: London_

Two beings, one a female human and the other a male humanoid, stood on the top floor of Torchwood-1 and frantically ran about, attaching large black clamps to walls, tapping at computers and throwing levers.  
The man grasped a long lever and shouted to the woman, "You ready?"  
Four Daleks drifted towards the window and aimed their weapons at the duo.

"So are they."  
"LETS DO IT!"

Simultaneously they pulled their levers and a soft feminine voice reported "_Online"_. Both the figures grabbed the black camps as their assailants hurtled through the window, into the room and out of the universe wailing "EMERGENCYYYYYYY!"

_Geostationary Orbit: Earth (Sol-3)_

"DALEK NUMBERS DECREASING."

The seated figure stared the screen, which now showed masses of Daleks being pulled into the top of a large skyscraper.

"**Activate trans-mat."**

All over Earth, the Cybermen suddenly floated off the floor, before rapidly drifting upwards into sky, and into the holds of large ships.  
As the Cybermen reformed in their new environment, they turned their black eyes around and took in their surroundings. The silver walls and floors were plain. Unadorned. No words, letters, numbers or signs. No directions, or indication of place... yet the Cybermen somehow felt they were in the right place.  
Then on each vessel, at the exact same moment, a door was opened and three beings, silhouetted against light, entered the holds. From within the ranks of the Cybermen, and with no outward indication whatsoever, a representative was selected who stomped towards their hosts. Both parties met in the middle and the spokesunit for the Cybermen queried their hosts.

"Identify yourselves."

There was a flash as the holds filled with light. The Cybermen stared at their hosts for a moment, before reaching the obvious conclusion.

"You are Cyber-Form."

No answer was needed. Both parties were a mirror of the other, with the exception of several minor differences (which were easily rectifiable).  
The Cybermen from the parallel dimension lacked the advanced armour or weapons of their counterparts, as well as having their logo emblazoned on their chests. The eyes of their rescuers were slanted, mirroring aggression, and were illuminated with a red light. They also had an additional weapon attached to their heads, where both antenna met.


End file.
